That Point of Decision
by December
Summary: At what point do you decide to just let your marriage go?


Hey everyone. This is still my second fanfic,   
so be nice and send feedback. (cemberl@yahoo.com)   
  
This was originally a song fic I wrote, but after   
reading it, decided it could stand on its own. Then   
this week I decided that it could easily be a Darien   
/Serena story as well, with a few changes. If you are a purist, or just curious (and I really didn't mean to   
rhyme there), email me and I'll send you my original   
story.   
  
This story is not necessarily an alternate reality   
story, although it could be. I've always believed   
that it could not have been easy for Serena to become   
Neo-Queen Serenity, and I believe at points she must   
have felt she was under great pressure. You can take   
it that way.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon, the George   
Michael song that inspired me, or much else at this   
point. The only thing that's mine was the idea to   
write.   
  
On with the story.   
  
That Point of Decision   
  
Serena sits at her mirror, fixing her hair. As   
she places the final pin and reaches for her earrings,   
she stops. Then she sighs. In her melancholy she can almost hear the piano at the beginning of Cowboys and Angels. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She really hated that song; it seemed even more painful   
that her life was reflecting it.   
  
When did she stop being her? And why? she laughs   
mirthlessly. She could answer the second question.   
She stopped being her when her husband wished her not   
to be. Oh, Darien never said - he wouldn't - but   
suddenly the dinners and moving in this society became   
more important than laughter, craziness, living life,   
and solving the world's problems. So the part of her   
that was klutzy, the part of her that was forever young,   
the part of her that was innocent and naive were   
all locked away and she turned herself into a hybrid of Jackie Kennedy and Princess Diana, the perfect   
queen-to-be. Don't move wrong; don't breathe wrong; the perfect hostess. And why toss away Serena's dreams   
for playing at becoming Neo-Queen Serenity? Because   
she loved her husband. It wasn't his fault; he   
demanded nothing. People are just like that.   
She looks over at her wedding photo. She looks   
so happy in that picture. And her groom looks so   
charming. He was so charming. Serena grinds her teeth.   
He still is charming...too charming...to everyone else   
but her. He's an incurable flirt. Sometimes she was convinced that he had no idea of what he was doing. But again, she should have known. She remembers how hard she worked to land him. Twice as hard as one would think considering the brainwashing, memory losses, and   
battles they faced. Again, it wasn't his fault. Superheroes never had normal anything.   
But now the strain was obvious to both of them.   
Why the hell does he stay? She sighed. She knew the answer; she just didn't like it. He thinks that   
she is safe. It he looks happily married, he can   
avoid the whole love mess. He has a "family" now;   
he doesn't want to be alone. So he uses her as a   
"safety deposit box" of sorts. Besides, she was   
intriguing. She was the only one who ever resisted   
him in any fashion, although half of the time that   
was acting.   
How did she ever delude herself into thinking   
that he loved her or thought she was special?   
Everyone fell all over her husband, including some   
of her friends. Beautiful women, smart women, rich   
women. Women closer to his age. Women who were all   
four always were ready and waiting for her husband.   
Heck, men had even come onto her husband. She closes   
her eyes. She'd rather not remember that time in New Orleans and the "Show Us Your Husbands" signs and the   
men shouting about her husband's tight butt and   
amazing body. She didn't share that story with   
anyone. What can she say about any of this anyway?   
One of Mina's boyfriends once said "I can't turn it   
on and off." (He didn't last long.) She couldn't   
blame her husband for being hot, rich, charming, and   
nice.   
None of that bothered her. Okay, none of   
that bothered her that much. What bothered her was   
his love lost eyes. The part of him that was opened   
to love was taken, obviously by someone before her.   
(Damn destiny.) It almost scarred his face...at least   
in the sight of a wife still in love with him. How   
does one fight a memory, a ghost, an unknown?   
Regardless of all of this, they had a function   
to go to. She reached for her earrings again.   
  
**************   
  
In the other room, in front of his mirror sat   
her husband. Darien growled. He didn't want to go   
tonight. But he stopped getting what he wanted years   
ago. How did this all happen, anyway?   
He laughed. If one could call that sound laughter.   
He loved his wife, Serena. So much so that he threw   
his heart into her plans. The fundraisers, the   
charity balls, the Society. God, he hated it. The   
plastic people, the meaningless platitudes.   
He looked a picture of her on his dresser. He   
smiles in remembrance. It was a fall day and they   
were newly married. They should have been raking   
leaves, but he had called her "Meatball Head" again   
and she threw leaves at him. That started the leaf   
fight. A neighbor took the picture. She looked   
beautiful with leaves in her hair. But the proper   
hostess would never do that now. What a waste.   
He looks to her door. Maybe he should tell her   
that he didn't want to go. No, he shouldn't. He   
remembered the last time he expressed similar   
displeasure. He said a party she planned wasn't "successful", at least in the way they used to mean successful, that it was fun. She freaked. She went   
through who was there, how well she hosted, the   
positive comments that were made, and that it landed   
them an invitation to Martha's Vineyard in the United States. It was moving them more into the world   
society and isn't that what they wanted? Then she   
started to cry quietly, which effectively ended the conversation. She didn't understand; his feelings   
butted heads with her grand plans of being some   
neo-queen they saw in some possible future. It   
wasn't her fault. It was his. The early her,   
his dream woman, maybe he just...he didn't know   
what her did, but he must have killed her. It's a   
shame because that was the women he loved and missed.   
Oh, she still used the word love, but it wasn't   
true love, not anymore. He sighed. And she should   
know he wasn't the man for her anymore. He had   
lived some much of his life in darkness that he   
desperately craved light, not titles or status.   
She needed a ladder climbing mover and shaker...She   
needed a king. And they were out there. But again,   
it wasn't her fault that he couldn't let her go.   
Why were they still together? Because he made   
her feel safe. Besides, he was her "destiny", and   
every good royal needed a fairy-tale story of love   
to fall back on. She didn't want real love, with   
its pain, doubts, and just plain messiness. Their arrangement was just affection on her part, harmless   
really. It's the men that fall for her that face   
heartache.   
And everyone loved her. Powerful men, richer   
men, younger men, and the kind-hearted men of the   
world. She looked so strong but so weak. Beautiful   
but battered ivy. A rose and her thorns. She drew   
admirers like moths to flame. And the press adored   
her. She was at least a popular as Princess Diana was before her death. How did he ever think that he was   
the guy for her? And how long did he really think he   
had before she got over the idea of "destiny" and the   
evil word "divorce" and left?   
When did he notice it was going wrong? When she stopped sharing.   
He looked at her door again. He wondered what   
she was doing now. Probably applying foundation to   
hide her scar. The one she wouldn't talk about.   
Like he didn't know that her father had something   
to do with it.   
That cold day in January she came back from   
visiting her father looking shell-shocked. And   
bearing a scar on the left side of her chin. She   
would only say that they had had words and to not   
invite him to the wedding. The fact that she wasn't   
even inviting him to her wedding screamed volumes.   
Why didn't she tell him? He would have done anything   
for her; told her father off or been a shoulder of   
support. But she never shared. And she probably never will.   
  
*************   
  
He put on his tux jacket and called through the   
door, "Are you ready?"   
"Yes." The door opened and out walked his wife.   
He almost turned to go like normal, but instead he   
took a risk. He held out his arm like he used to.   
She was shocked at being offered his arm, but   
she took it, grateful to receive any of his charm.   
They walked down the stairs, out of the building,   
across the plaza to the party. The press and fame   
followers were there in droves. The couple heard   
the comments.   
  
"He looks like a hero. A man who would jump into   
danger just to save you."   
  
"She's an angel. Look she floats! She glows!"   
  
They reach the party, enter the door. In one   
corner, the beautiful powerful women wave to Darien.   
Across the room the new and up-and-coming politicians   
wave to Serena. The couple move to separate, but   
freeze and look at each other. They know if they   
part now, their time together was over, destiny or   
not. Was this their last change to be happy? And   
what would make them happy? To move or stay?   
  
And that is how we leave the hero and the rose.   
And we leave ourselves with a question. Do they move   
or do they stay?   
  
The End 


End file.
